Night of Blood (Zith hunting) [Open-see tag]

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Fall Night 38 509 AV
Somewhere between sylira and zeltiva
Open after second Kadarus post

The cries and growls that had broken the forest silence had died down, the trodden grass and broken saplings were clear signs of struggle but the gasp and moan that crawl from female throat, gave no hint of pain. The rare laughter that floated held no traces of fear.

Lightly clawed hands swept down the bare expense of back beneath her touch. Skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, grass blades, and light scratches Astroidea rubbed her cheek against the sweat moisten temple. She did not mind the pain; teeth buried in the muscle of her shoulder, hot breath blew upon the unreleased meat. The pass of a tongue drew a sharp gasp of breath and the shivers returned to the small furred form.

Teeth released and just as swiftly a pink tongue appeared creating a damp path across the kelvic’s cheek. The scowl of the naked Kelvic did nothing to dim the curve of her lips. She had begun the curious attempts of using her arms, in the place of where her wings had been. Gestures she remembered the slaves made, or those she’d reserved for the young, her hands cupping the back of the kelvics neck, or splayed upon his back though, was poor substitutes to the limbs she once held, to the protective shield they once provided.

Still the Kelvic pulled against her grip, and soft lips pouted. The smaller woman rose with the pull of the male before she pushed, the pair rolled over and the low growl and hands closing roughly upon her hips, paused for a moment. The Astoirdea laid her head upon her lover’s chest and for a moment the hands upon her relaxed. Night had fallen, and after days of the daytime traveling and the destruction of her natural sleeping cycle, and supplementing her diet with foreign foods, the travel had been misery. But this night, she was wide awake, and feeling, well for the first time in nearly a week.

“Stay Kadarus, a bit longer. They are still leagues away."

[Kadarus]

"Leagues are even too close for comfort," he murmured, laying a hand on the small of the woman's back, choosing not to add that he was, in fact, very comfortable. He would have been perfectly content to fall into easy sleep; after all, they'd been travelling for two days now, despite Astoiredea's complaints. It was taking a great deal of getting used to, travelling with the wingless zith, and he would have been brave enough to suggest continuing on even through this night, if it had not been for the recent change in her scent.

It was terribly strange for him to think that the travel and new food had affected her in the way that they in arguably had. Kadarus had never taken the zith for having particulary fair or weak constitutions, but Astoiredea's scent had taken a decidedly sickly tinge to it. Pressing his chin into his chest, he struggled to look at her, but with her head on his chest, he failed to see her expression. As though she knew what he was doing, the zith tipped her head back to look at him, a question in her eyes. "Nothing, Render," he answered quietly, brushing stray strands of her blood red hair out of her face with his other hand.

Kadarus shut his eyes and drank deeply of the cooling autumnal air of the wilderness. For all of his human mannerisms and trappings, the hunter was something far more, and in the dark, it was his other senses that gave him sight. Beyond the smells of the dying leaves of fall, he could smell a grouping of them, riding on the wind, a small collection with a scent he knew far too well. It certainly wasn't one that had ventured out into the world in curiosity; those that left their cave colonies in search of knowledge tended to travel on their lonesome, or perhaps with a partner. No, this was most likely a hunting party, turned over on their heads by the change of season and lost from their colony. It was nearly undeniable that these were the ones that Finn had heard word of in their last stopover in civilization.

The pycon would be furious that Kadarus had killed them all before they could arrange a price for the work, but he cared little for her greed when it came down to it. For money or blood, he'd pledged at one point to kill any zith that descended into nothing more than flesh eating reavers, and from what Finn had told him, that was what the roving hunters had turned to. Slipping his hand under Astoiredea's arm, he tried to pull the woman's grasp from him, but she resisted. With a sigh, he sat up, putting her in his lap.

"Okay. I suppose they won't be on us any second now...but I'm hungry, and I know you are, too." She slumped against him, laying her head in the curve of his shoulder. Turning his head, he kissed her ear, carefully, gingerly tracing the recess of the scar on her back. "I'm a little worried about your health with the travel, Render. Let me at least get up and get my pack. I'll come right back, I'm not going to go charging after them wearing nothing but my sword."

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The body beneath her rose, and with it she did, sliding against hard muscle before settling in the natural depression of the kelvic’s lap, her head falling against his shoulder, the chill was not unbearable yet, and the snows had yet to fall from the skies above. Still it did not detract from the fact she reveled in the warmth of the body that towered over her. Her shoulders twitched as warm fingers traced gently along the ridge of her scars, as lips pressed lightly upon her ear. For a moment most sound was blocked from sensitive ears but the sound of heart beats and the soft breath he exhaled over her skin.

The zith was a cautious creature in her wingless state, and her back was a sensitive matter as a scarred guard, and man fighters in sunberth could attest. The female did not take kindly to being approached from behind, and cringed still at familiar fingers brushed upon her shame. The valley of thin skin, was no bigger sign of defeat to one who prided herself on her own battle prowess. And a weakness that could not stand to much unprotected exploitation. Yet the kelvic seemed to have a strange fascination with the wound, like any other would with battle scars. Perhaps because it was large, and new. Just as she touched the scars she knew, the one’s her claws made, numerous along his ribs and sides. The slashes upon his chest, the upraised skin upon his back she did not. Ones made with steel rather than claw she was not there to defend him from.

At the mention of food the female trailed her fingers lightly down the kelvic’s neck before her lips followed before the zith rose from her place upon the legs of meat and blood. It was a joke to say she was hungry, she was always hungry, comparable to the wolf that wore the skin of sheep. While her mate would feast this night, zith, did not eat zith. It was not something taboo, simply something not done. So eating would be well, as would hunt if they were going to linger about. A simple killing of a hunting party would not go unpunished, if a survivor got away, more would come, to reclaim the bodies and get their revenge. Well Astriodea would know having led many of her own hunts.

“If we’re going to face them here for the next few nights. The clearing by the river is better. It gives clear sight to the bodies, and while we can clean off the scent of their blood, in it as well they are likely to miss us when the scouting party and the rest of the colony comes to reclaim the corpses and hunt us down.

I smell food on those banks.”

[Kadarus]

"Hmmm...food?" Kadarus' eyes followed her as she rose off his lap, and his hand found the taut side of her calf, the thumb gently stroking the fur on her straightened knee. After a moment, he slowly climbed to his own feet, took her face in his hands, and kissed her again before turning away. As he made the short walk to the tree where his things lay, he mulled over her words. Food, the word from her lips, was most definitely the zith definition of it; breathing, living, laughing. There some things that the zith considered food that were barely fit to be considered as such; scum of the earth thieves and heartless assassins. But when Astoiredea turned her hungry eyes on something such as a lost woodsman's daughter did he choose to stop her.

Kadarus crouched beside his pack, pulled its flap back - and recoiled at once at the sight inside. His money pouch had been pulled open, and gold, silver, and copper mizas were strewn over folded clothes and his box of tobacco. Upon the pile of glinting metal, a light red pycon was rolling back and forth, sweeping her arms and legs back and forth to create shapes in the money. The hunter hesitated for a moment, then sighed, shoving Finn and the mizas aside to dig out a heaping handful of jerked beef. "Here," he announced, turning back towards Astoiredea. "It's not a piglet, or a lip, but it should tide you over for the moment."

Shoving some of the meat into his own mouth, Kadarus bent to pick up his pants, and pulled them on quickly, dropping to the forest floor and reaching for his boots. He had no qualms being bare, in fact, it managed to feel a touch more comfortable, though he would never freely admit it. It was simply a touch of his wilder roots. However, he'd only fought in the nude a handful of times, and not a single one of those occasions had been comfortable in the slightest. Grunting, with the meat hanging comically out of the sides of his mouth, Kadarus struggled on both of his boots, and reached for his most prized and important possession.

The sword slept comfortably in its sheath. He knew its body as well as he knew his own and Astoiredea's; he knew the length of the blade, of the hilt, of the weapon's weight. The moonlight shown off its well polished and well cared for blade in the spaces that his makeshift sheath could not cover. Kadarus carefully slung its strap over his neck and under his arm, letting it rest comfortably at an angle across his back. Astoiredea appeared at his side then, sitting down next to him and leaning her slight body against his shoulder.

"So, down there." Kadarus raised one hand and pointed at the nearby river, babbling and gurgling as it rushed past, unaware of the strange pair of lovers so close to it. The bank itself was choked with under brush, and the surrounding trees bent their limbs to help mask its shores even more. "Food, hmm? What sort, Render? Human, or...?"

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“Food is food. Neither Zith, nor Kelvic.” The woman at his side, her body warmly against his had her eyes closed. Although she wore her human trappings, her skin was still flushed upon his. Her cloak lay not far from the pair upon the grass, clawed hand resting upon it lightly.

Her human clothing were barely covering scraps of fabric, it left her back bare and untouched, covered her breasts and groin as seemed the natural state of things disturbed the food. A least when she wore her cloak she could forgo the human trappings, but for now it was of no consequence. No cave to call home, no colony of warm bodies to lie upon to warm the nights that seemed to bring cooler and colder breezes. Yet even that was of no consequence at the moment. Not far there was food, and the thought of fresh meat, that still kicked, with blood that still ran sweet, made the churning hunger in her belly roar. Even with the taste of Kadarus’ shared dried meat on her tongue, her mouth watered at the anticipation, of a hunt she could reap the benefits of.

“Screams and a fresh kill will surely draw them faster. And if they are hungrier than I, they will be blindly focused.”

Her eyes were still closed as she spoke, the sounds of the night, the wind that blew, the call of an owl, the started cries of a mouse painted pictures of the area around her. Past the trees, it added to her night vision, but it pinpointed how far her meal was.

Astoirdea’s eyes opened and she cuddled against the kelvic’s side before pulling her cloak nearer.

“Will you hunt, or wait in ambush?” The zith stood and no longer looked at the kelvic, but towards the other bank of the river. She had mentioned the hunting party being blindly focused on the prey she had mind to have, but it was easy to say at a glance the female was a victim of the focus. That was not the case yet though, she still spoke common to the male. She was still by his side rather than taking off towards the beating heart that held no sound of fear or anxiety. Not knowing it was next to be hunted.

[Ryndra]

It had been a fair days travel to reach even this close to Syliras, but she was nearly home once more. Well, what she now considered home at least. Ryndra had been lived in Syliras for more than long enough now. She had once considered her village home and Syliras her temporary residence. But the longer she had stayed in Syliras, the more it had grown on her. Now, it was truly her home and she was on her way back.
It had been a pain travelling with no mount. She would have been safe within the city walls by now. Still, she was not one to complain, especially when there was nobody to complain to. The chill of winter was settling on the winds but the squire barely felt their touch. She kept the pace she had set herself. This was as much a part of her training as any. Those who endured longer were victorious after all.
Her backpack held the supplies she would need for the remainder of the journey. It sat light on her back. Her violet coat was wrapped tight around her hiding the small amount of protection she had beneath. She was not yet a Knight and a fine set of plate was far from her price range so she made do with some light leather armour. This sat over her leather pants and linen blouse that she normally used while training. Her study boots kept her feet protected from the harshness of constant walking but she was not one to remain in one place for long.
Ryndra had rested not long ago but she was by no means fresh. Her calf muscles were beginning to ache once more but it was nothing she could not handle. Her hand rested on her sword hilt at her waist while her arm sported her shield bearing her personalised insignia. A wolf howling at the storm it had brought. It felt good to have the weight of a shield at her arm once more. She had gone through a time of feeling almost naked without it. As skilled as she was with a blade, she preferred having a shield by her side.
Ryndra’s free hand reached up, ensuring that her hair was secured back in the ponytail. While dust had settled on her clothes and skin, she tried to keep herself reasonably presentable. Her eyes gazed up towards the night sky and she became aware of her thirst. She turned to the river, removing a glove. Stooping low, she washed her face before filling her water skin and drinking the refreshing liquid.

Purchases :

Leather Belt – 2sm
Linen Blouse – 1gm
Leather Pants – 8sm
Leather Gloves – 5sm
Leather Armour – 10gm
Jousting Heater Shield – 30gm
Total Cost – 42gm 5sm

[Kadarus]

Kadarus glanced down at her, again, unable to see her expression, his as unidentifiable as her's at the moment. He knew well that the zith, despite their perpetual hunger, would not eat other zith, but the kelvic...he knew they were not so picky. But was she claiming now to have lost her taste for his race? Perhaps she had had enough of the flavor, the fresh wounds on his shoulders and arms, punctures from teeth, could perhaps back that possibility. He wondered often a time just how far her table manners would go if she found herself without food for a long period of time. The zith were a civil enough people, until their appetites went on a rampage, hand in hand with their instincts. Quetly, he reached for his gauntlets, slipping one over his left hand first, idly fiddling with the leather straps and buckles that held it fast.

As he pulled the last leather strap tight with a sharp tug, the woman at his side pressed into him, and for the briefest of seconds, his resolve and anger faltered. As the scent of the hunting party drew closer on the winds they flew on, his view of the world had begun to narrow until it was almost as thin as the edge of a newly forged blade, Astoiredea almost all but forgotten. Setting the other gauntlet on his lap for a moment, Kadarus laid his bare hand, still warm flesh, not yet wrapped in heavy, bone breaking iron, on the arm that laid on his thigh, and strained to kiss the top of her head. If the rare, open gesture of affection was noticed by her, she did not show it; her eyes were opened, trained on the bank of the river, ears listening to the heartbeat of the meal. She stood, and the warmth left him again as he slid his hand into the other gauntlet, the scowl returning to his face as his golden eyes narrowed.

"Ambush." It was the simplest answer he could have given her, but at the moment, he knew anything else would have been lost on her. Likewise, he was in no mind to give a longwinded answer to the question. Climbing the his feet, he tested the gauntlets bonds, and then started forward at a crouching walk, not bothering to look back. This was Astoiredea's hunt, and Kadarus was in no mood to get heavily involved in it; he wanted to save his energy for his own bloodshedding. In moments, he'd descended down the slight hill and slipped into the underbrush, his steps light and quiet, taking care not to step on the dry twigs that littered the ground.

Pausing, he reached a cautious hand up, and pulled away a handful of leaves. His eyes, almost glowing with reflected light, studied the zith's oblivious meal in waiting. A woman, human from the look and the scent, crouching at the riverside to wash her face with handfuls of cold water. She didn't appear to be armored, though a shield sat at her side, with no sword or mace or axe to accompany it. Drawing in a slow breath, the hunter cocked his head to the side, pondering the state of the woman. Just a wanderer? Most likely not, but aside from the symbol on her shield, she carried no insignias or markings to present herself as anything else. Letting the leaves, slightly crumpled, fall back into place, Kadarus stayed at the ready on the balls of his feet, tipped slightly forward, ready to charge out of the bushes at the slightest sign of trouble.

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There were so many things that could be told from the sounds of a persons’ body. From the sound of her lungs, and the beat of her heart, Ryndra told the zith that she was still within the prime of her life, active, and neither ill nor sickly. Her scent upon the chilling hair confirmed this, bringing the scent of female, youth, and sweat. As well as the fresh scent of leather and metal polish. Yet it was not a worrying thought, a zith fearing a sheep clumsy sheep with a blade was not a thought to enter the huntress’ mind.

Yet that was when she was at her full grace. Hunting without her wings was such a new experience that often early on it meant going without her meals, living off of beasts, or surprise, picking and dragging off the sickly or the weak. But by time the wingless one had made it to Sunberth, she found a manner of hunting that suited her, and her hunting skills adapted to life skulking upon the earth and through the brush, although not as graceful as gliding through the dark and air, it still got her fed.

Astroirdea did not watch Kadarus leave, but she heard him, his heart beat, her heart beat and she was off. Circling wide through the brush without a sound. Her skills alone perhaps would not be impressive, but the complimenting nature of them, made the creature adept enough to move with ease. From the brush she could see the human beside the water. She could not smell Kadarus yet, the winds yet to shift, but the familiar sound of his pulse, louder than any beat around save her prey was telling enough. Render eyed the woman, it if was simply a kill, it would be no issue, but she had spoken that the screaming and blood would draw the others near quicker, and that was what she had to do.

Restraint was a hard concept upon a zith, but they could plot, they could plan, so what needed to be done, she could do. Just one bite.

The crouching figured moved low to the ground, unhindered by her scraps of clothing, nearing the edge of the brush and the trees and pausing to see what her prey would do, had Ryndra noticed, would she keep moving in oblivion. Her eyes were focused upon the human with a numbing intensity although her hearing was tunes to every breeze, every sound of tumbling leaves, and nothing moved; the sounds of the night had long faded away with the approach of new hunters and the unknowing prey.

[Ryndra]

The squire was unaware of the dangers that lurked around her. Her focus was more on quenching her thirst than anything around her. Ryndra knew that she had to keep going. If she did, she would reach Syliras by morning and she could rest for the day before training again.
Ryndra had no idea she was being hunted or that someone was laying in ambush for her. She stood up from the water; her skin replenished with liquid and her throat no longer dry. Her gaze returned to the moon again, it was so peaceful and quiet. The moons ethereal glow reflecting off her hair, her shield flashing as she shifted her arm on the hilt of her blade. Ryndra smiled, enjoying being out here in the tranquil surroundings. It made the twinges of ache in her leg retreat once more.
Ryndra took in her earthbound surroundings. There was no wind; the leaves seemed to just hang in the air around the trees. She heard a brief rustle but put it down to a small animal. One she could not hear. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything. You could always hear something, the chirp of crickets, the creak of the trees, the breath of the world. But not now, the world was holding its breath.
Superstition got the better of her. The stories of home running through her mind like the river beside her. The calm before the storm but which way would the winds blow. Ryndra kept a relaxed posture but her right hand moved to grip the hilt of her sword, her left arm closing to her body more. Torn between whether to continue or wait, Ryndra hesitated.

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Eyes were upon the human they watched the woman shift. Render herself prepared her, slowly creeping forward. Her kind were not runners, they were ambushers, pack hunters, or simply aerial hunters. The air was an axis not many had access to. They could be lift high into the air and be helpless, they could fight, and be dropped, that would kill the more injure the prey and make the hunt over before the creature was dead.

But without her wings Astoirdea was on the same plane as her prey, and was forced to rely on her the value of surprise and her natural assets of claws and teeth upon the unsuspecting and the unwary. The zith crept forward her hand but a reach away from the openness when Ryndra hesitated. The hunter stilled watching the woman, only for a second, or too much time would pass, and the cries of hunger got the best of her, Render darted forward low from the underbrush. There was no scrambling to get a hold, clawed feet often used to hold and carry away her prey dug into the earth giving no purchase as she launched herself forward. Immediate death was not necessary but clawed hands raised to strike and drag across the shield bearer's back. Sever the muscles of the back would limit the motions and strength of the prey's arms, let would leave plenty of time for screams, blood, and to feed.